


Courage

by maddienole



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Panic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Post-Episode: Revolution of the Daleks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28517406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddienole/pseuds/maddienole
Summary: "I'm not ready to let you go yet."Yaz meant it. It turns out the Doctor did too.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 110





	Courage

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching Doctor Who consistently since the Matt Smith years and yet somehow this is the first fic I wrote for the show. Hope you guys enjoy!

Yaz decided that she did not like Florida.

It was hot outside - _unbearable to some degree_ \- the air stuffy and weighted, like being smothered in a blanket of moisture that did nothing more than inconvenience those unlucky enough to be caught in its iron grip.

Okay, maybe that was a _bit_ dramatic.

Maybe.

But it _was_ hot, something that didn't seem to bother anyone else here. They were at tiki bar of some sort, the TARDIS landing them just around the turn of the twenty-first century. Why the Doctor chose this time period in particular, Yaz didn't know. It _was_ however, safe of her to presume that their destination was not one made with such intent. The TARDIS never seemed to drop them off in the place of their choosing, though she supposed that was part of the fun.

Yaz took another sip of her drink, something fruity of which she couldn't quite remember the name. It wasn't alcoholic, that much she was sure about. It was the taste of liquor- _bitter, acrid?_ \- that she was never truly able to acclimate, even well into her adult years.

The condensation felt good on her hands, red and itchy from when she fell into the sand, sitting so unceremoniously in direct view of the sun.

They _hurt._

Did she mention she hated Florida?

She didn't want to go off planet - _not yet_ \- not so soon after...

She closed her eyes.

She took a breath in.

She exhaled.

And then, like nothing at all happened, she takes another sip, relishing in the cool liquid as it ran down her throat, in turn helping to cool her rapidly overheating body.

She asked the Doctor to take her some place on Earth. Some place she hadn't been yet. Some place to... _decompress_ , she supposed.

The woman in question was leaning against the bar, chatting with the bar-tender as he pours some drink of indiscernible flavor. Yaz never took the Doctor as one who would enjoy the taste of alcohol, though perhaps it was just a matter of imprinting her own biases onto her. But _still_...just the thought of the Doctor a few drinks in - _open, vulnerable_ \- or perhaps she was an angry drunk. Or a happy drunk. Or...

"Is this seat taken?"

Yaz blinked, shaking herself from her reverie. Some man stood before her - tall and dark - adorned with red, white and blue swim shorts that were dripping onto the wooden flooring below.

_How unabashedly American._

She tightens the grip on her drink, eyeing him with suspicion but ultimately remaining silent. A pregnant pause fills the atmosphere as neither party makes a move to speak. His smile falters slightly. There are things Yaz can pick out in a person - the furrowed brows, the agitated hand movements, the beads of sweat on his forehead that could be the result of the heat or perhaps something else. These are things one must recognize as a cop.

Nerves. Fear. Apprehension.

He certainly wasn't a threat, or at least not one of any note.

The man finally opens his mouth again, in what was probably an attempt to repeat the question. Yaz flicks her gaze briefly to the Doctor, who was still in the process of ordering drinks. The man immediately follows her gaze and a look of recognition plays across his features.

"Is that your girlfriend?" he asks.

Yaz raises an eyebrow, placing her cup down on the table. She should tell him no. She wants to tell him that it was not his concern. She wants...what did she want?

" _I'm not ready to let you go yet."_

Her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest.

She...wants to tell him _yes._

The Doctor was _hers_ , and hers only. They were together. They were _happy._

It was nice to dream, wasn't it?

"In a manner of speaking," Yaz manages to spit out, trying to remain impassive.

The man quirks an eyebrow, shooting a glance towards the bar and then back at Yaz. The corners of his lips curl up. He wipes at his brow.

"I'll...leave you to it," he then says with a slight nod.

Yaz watches him leave, grabbing for her drink again. She supposed he wasn't _bad_ looking, per say. The thought of someone else beside her - _flirting with her_ \- dating...it seemed _wrong_ , somehow. She simply couldn't imagine the mundane anymore. Simple, stupid things that humans do - waking up, eating breakfast, clocking in and out of work. Collecting bobbles and watching sporting events. _No_. There was an entire universe out there, just beckoning for her to join.

And the Doctor...brilliant in what she does, feisty and bright.

_Beautiful..._

Yaz wasn't an idiot. She recognized where her feelings were heading, as much as she tried to suppress them. Being gone, abandoned...no, _stranded_ perhaps, would be the better word, on Earth for ten months was nothing less than torturous. Being _without_ her...Yaz's heart still aches. The hours would melt into days and the days into weeks, trying to figure out how to return to her - the woman that fell to Earth.

Graham and Ryan moved on.

Yaz didn't.

_In and out. In and out._

The Doctor then turns, drink in each hand, each of a reddish tint. Her eyes meet Yaz's own, a smile soon breaking out on her face. She always had such a pretty smile, Yaz thinks, leaning back into her chair. One that radiates _warmth_. Of _safety_. One that she wanted to cocoon herself in and never leave.

She was dressed different for now - pants shorter, shirt tighter, sleeves non-existent. The thought of the Doctor in a tank-top seemed strange at first, but served as a stark reminder of how _human_ she looked underneath those layers of clothing. It was simply too hot to keep what she had on before, as delightful as the suspenders may be. Yaz couldn't help but draw her gaze from her legs to her arms, as if she were an exhibit on display. They were more toned then she thought they would be.

And scarred, as well.

"Who were you talking to?" the Doctor asks, placing the cups down and pushing one towards her.

Yaz shrugs, eyeing the ice floating around the rim of the cup. Why do Americans put so much ice in their drinks?

"Just some guy," she responds softly.

"He's rather cute."

Yaz frowns, looking back up.

The Doctor's smile grows wider. " _In a manner of speaking_ ," she continues, looking as though she was trying to suppress a chuckle.

And _failing_ , mind you.

Yaz freezes. Her chest tightens.

"I...I don't...I," she stutters, trying to get words to formulate in her mouth.

"Three I's in one breath makes you sound a bit egotistical, don't you think?" The Doctor tilts her head briefly, then bends to take a sip of her drink.

_She's joking, right? Please tell me she's joking._

Was it getting harder to breathe out here? Was she suffering from heat stroke?

_In and out. In and out._

"I wasn't lying," she finally blurts. "When he asked if you were my girlfriend. I mean...you _are_ a girl. And...well, you are also my friend."

_I hope._

The Doctor goes silent. The only sound now was the squeals of children throwing sand balls and the soft chatter of patrons at the bar. After what seemed like forever (but couldn't have been more than a minute), she points to the untouched drink in front of Yaz.

"It's for you."

"I don't drink, Doctor."

"It's a _Shirley Temple_." The Doctor's smile reappears, small but still gripped at Yaz's heart and squeezed.

God, she's _beautiful_. Even if this weather frizzed out her hair and reddened her cheeks. Even if she was covered in sweat and sand and the broken seashells made intents on her legs. Yaz grabs at her drink and takes a sip - cherry and bubbly and stings the insides of her cheeks. It was a bit _too_ sweet, but she had already finished her last drink and had no desire to get up for another one.

"I know a place," the Doctor continues.

" _What_ place?"

The Doctor rises to her feet, pulling at her tank-top before realizing that she wasn't wearing the same clothes as before.

"Have you heard of the meringue galaxy?"

Yaz chuckles softly, brushing the sand off of her legs.

"You told us about that already, Doctor."

She frowns, crossing her arms. "Us?"

"In the TARDIS," Yaz explains. "You were going to take me and Graham and..." she trails off, averting her gaze.

" _Before they left us,"_ she wanted to say but found the words stuck in her throat. It had only been several hours since they left, doing god knows what back in their proper time. She sighs, lifting her head back up.

"Right," the Doctor says slowly. "Forgot about that, didn't I? Must be old age." The smile on her face doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Graham and Ryan left.

They moved on.

Yaz didn't.

Yaz _couldn't_.

How...how could one leave this kind of life? How could one leave _her_?

" _I'm not ready to let you go yet."_

She wasn't. She doesn't think she'll ever be. It's intoxicating, in a way - this life that she has chosen to lead. Of this woman that she has chosen to lead it with.

"We can still go if you want," Yaz murmurs, finding more interest in the ground beneath her. "I mean...it sounds interesting."

"Oh, _definitely_. Did you know that the furniture is also made of meringue?"

"No."

_Yes._

The Doctor clears her throat, sitting back down. "I can get us a reservation. Just the two of us. It's popular so it's probably booked for the next couple of years, but...well, that's the beauty of a time machine right?"

_Just the two of us?_

"So like a date?" The question leaves Yaz's mouth before she even recognizes what was happening. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. It was _far_ too hot outside.

"Would you prefer it not to be?" the Doctor responds quickly, fiddling with her hands. "Because it doesn't _have_ to be. Not...not unless you want it to."

_Was that an invitation?_

Yaz couldn't help but smile. A warmth spread through her - _a good type of warmth_ \- emanating from her chest and traveling down to her fingertips.

 _But I do want it to be_ , she thinks.

She was young, eleven, maybe twelve - still growing into herself. Her friends would squeal in the hallways and in classrooms about the boys. Who was dating who, which one was the cutest, who was the best kisser. _Stupid_ things. Unimportant things, in the scheme of things.

Yaz never thought about those things. She went on dates, of course. Did the things that teenage girls were known to do. But that didn't stop her noticing a pretty girl in the cafeteria or in line for the bus. That didn't stop her from thinking how _beautiful_ girls could be - their hair and eyes and bodies - and how much she yearned to _touch_ them but never had the courage.

She looks at the Doctor now, such a dominant personality behind those eyes - those _stunning_ eyes that one could lose themselves in. The Doctor, who is offering her something that she has dreamed of for so long. That has rooted itself in her heart and refuses to let go.

" _I'm not ready to let you go yet."_

Yaz reaches out to take her hand.


End file.
